


Fake Your Death

by OnyxFang99



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Palaye Royale (Band)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Demons, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Ghosts, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Original Character(s), No Smut, Not Beta Read, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2020-12-28 06:16:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21132020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxFang99/pseuds/OnyxFang99
Summary: Seventeen-year-old Frank Iero and his father move to the small town of Thornsbury for Frank's last year of high school. However, this town brings a whole new definition to the term "Ghost Town". With a diner run by a mysterious supernatural entity, a satan worshipping neighbour, a student body president who practices witchcraft on the side, and a crush on a boy who died 20 years ago, Frank's last year is going to be a lot more than test papers and college applications.





	1. Ghost Towns and Green Day

**Author's Note:**

> Eyy I'm writing again. Finally. This idea has been in my head for a long time now and I thought that I should finally give it a try. Don't expect regular updates cause my schedule is really weird. Also if anyone wants to beta read comment below. 
> 
> Edit: I forgot to mention that Thornsbury, Maine doesn't actually exist. (Not to my knowledge at least and if it does it's probably nothing like the town described.)

It’s only two hours into an eight-hour road trip and Frank Iero already wants to rip his hair out.

Now to most people, this would be an exaggeration or an overreaction. But Frank is completely serious. The first time he’s leaving his hometown of Belleville, New Jersey - and no the time he went to a neighbouring town for a field trip when he was seven in which he was promptly sent home from after giving a kid a black eye (to be fair they deserved it) doesn’t count - only to be stuck for eight hours on the road to a basic ghost town. This not even mentioning his father’s off-key singing to obscure eighty’s rock songs (Frank’s sure he’s doing that on purpose considering his normal singing skills).

The Green Day blasting through his earbuds does little in the way of comfort on this hell ride, especially not when it’s interrupted by his father’s desperate attempts to connect with him.

“Come on, Frank,” Mr Iero says when the boy in question pulls his left earbud out in annoyance, “new state, new town, new start! It’s a clean slate for us!”

“Yeah, I’m sure there are a lot of opportunities in a small beach town in the middle of nowhere,” Frank sarcastically bites back, burying himself in his hoodie and shoving his earbud back in, effectively cutting off the conversation.

Mr Iero merely sighs as Frank turns his music all the way up, used to the boy’s attitude. This is how all of their conversations go ever since the divorce. He tried living with his mother but was quickly kicked out of the strict catholic school she forced him into. This was the last straw for her and he was immediately sent to live with his estranged and reckless rocker father and put in a shitty public school. They kicked him out too.

Which brings him to here. Moving in with his Grandma in Thornsbury, Maine - aka the middle of nowhere - so she can look after him while his father plays gigs. He doesn’t know why though. He’s seventeen, nearly eighteen, and perfectly capable of looking after himself thank you very much.

However, any attempt to change Mr Iero’s mind proved fruitless. The normally-a-pushover man held his ground. Saying things like: “A change of scenery will be _ good _for you.” Yeah right.

But there is nothing he can do and as Green Day’s Holiday starts up, Frank resigns himself to his fate.

A new town, new house, and by extension, a new school.

_ Man, I hope we crash. _

* * *

They don’t crash.

In actuality, the ride goes pretty smoothly, with the pair stopping for a late lunch in some random roadside burger joint in New Hampshire.

They make it to Thornsbury as the sky goes dark. Mr Iero stops the car outside a diner labelled _ Jenny’s Diner _ with a sign proclaiming it to be the pancake capital of Maine. Frank scoffs, _ “I’ll be the judge of that.” _

They do find that the place has pretty good service as they’re immediately brought to a table upon entering the building (though that may have something more to do with the lack of customers than the actual servers themselves). They are lead to a table by a perky blonde waitress with no uniform other than an apron around her waist and having what looks to be a coffee stain on her dark grey blouse. (At least he hopes it’s a coffee stain and not something more sinister - hey it’s a small town, you can’t put it past them.)

Only a few minutes of unenthusiastically flicking through the menu, not taking in its contents, they are greeted by another waiter.

“Hi I’m Gerard, are you guys ready to order?” Their voice is plastic, no genuine joy or enthusiasm put into the words.

Frank finally decides to look up from where he’s been burning a hole into the menu and is unable to look away. Unable to take his eyes off the waiter’s bright red hair. Not an ugly, carrot-like ginger or a plain, ordinary auburn. No, a blazing firetruck red, like leaves in fall just before they descend from the trees. A beautiful scarlet that flows to his shoulders.

“Heh, hem…” the waiter coughs and Frank realises he’s been staring for perhaps a bit too long. The waiter and his dad look at him expectantly before the redhead reluctantly repeats the question, “what would you like to eat?”

“Uhh…” Frank absentmindedly turns to a page displaying all-day breakfast options and hurriedly points at a random menu item.

The hot waiter, seemingly amused, writes it down before heading off.

Mr Iero gives him a knowing look to which Frank meets with a glare.

“Fuck off.”

* * *

When Gerard - aka the hot waiter with the vibrant red hair that contrasts perfectly with his deathly pale skin - comes back with their food Frank has finally recovered enough to notice his Dookie shirt hiding beneath a stylish black leather jacket. Just before the young man disappears again, Frank gathers the courage to ask him about it.

“Is that a Green Day shirt?”

The redhead’s eyes light up, “yeah! You a fan?” His voice sounds genuinely excited and friendly, not like that fake, passive-aggressive tone that servers used as to not piss off customers (or their bosses).

“Hell yeah,” Frank grins back, ignoring the gradually cooling plate of pancakes in favour of focusing on Gerard, “Green Day’s the shit!”

“Frank, language,” Mr Iero gently scolds (he only really has a problem with cursing if it’s directed at strangers) but both young men wave him off.

“What’s your favourite album?”

“American Idiot, yours?”

“Dookie, as you can see,” Gerard motions to the T-shirt.

This spirals into an extensive conversation over bands - Gerard is more a fan of ‘80s and 90’s punk rock over modern rock - with Frank intermittently breaking to take a bite out of his pancakes - which are actually pretty good all things considered. They are soon interrupted by the waitress from earlier yelling for Gerard.

“Sorry, gotta go, still got a job to do,” he says sheepishly.

“Maybe we could continue this conversation when you’re not on the clock?” Frank suggests, finally finishing his food.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Gerard replies, picking up the pairs dishes.

“What’s your phone number?”

“Don’t have a phone.”

“What?” Frank is shocked. Everyone has a phone. Even his permanently stuck in the ‘70s Grandma has one (not that she ever actually uses it but still.) “Your parents must be strict as fuck not to let you have a phone.”

“Frank!” Mr Iero berates more firmly.

Gerard seems to close in on himself, his hand nervously playing with the black ribbon around his wrist, refusing to meet Frank’s eyes, “something like that…”

“Sorry, that was rude,” Frank awkwardly apologizes as an uncomfortable silence settles between them, broken after what seems like forever by a more insistent voice from behind the counter.

“I better go…” Gerard says, turning away.

“Wait!” Frank grabs the redheads wrist, “where can I find you?”

“I’m usually here at the diner even when I’m not working,” the tension seems to leave his shoulders at the change of subject.

“Well, then I’ll be back here tomorrow then,” Frank promises.

“See you then,” Gerard bids as a farewell, missing the way Frank’s gaze lingers on the black ribbon.


	2. Music and Milkshakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank finally moves into his new house, meets his neighbours, talks with Gerard, and starts to realise that maybe Thornsbury might not be so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight TW for implied suicide also Gerard's boss is non-binary.

As soon as his shift ends Gerard collapses on the back couch, right into his usual spot. He leans back into the seat for only a mere moment, closing his eyes to rest before he’s interrupted.

“Hey, Gee-gee!” Jenna bounces inside, the nickname making the man in question groan.

“Jen, you know I hate that nickname,” he leans forward, shoving his palms into his eyes and letting his red hair flop in front of his face.

He can almost hear her pout as she speaks again, “you don’t like anything… except that pretty boy from before,” his eyes snap open just in time to spot her devious smile. He can feel his face going red.

“You- you shut your piehole,” Gerard stutters back.

“Ooh, someone’s got a crush,” Jenna teases. There’s no real malice to it though - Gerard doesn’t think she’s got a mean bone in her body - the comment being more of one from an older sister teasing her younger brother - now that he thinks about it they’ve known each other for so long they might as well be siblings at this point.

But he doesn’t have time for light-hearted teasing today. “Shove off, Jenna,” he stands, pacing, “I’m not in a good mood.”

“What, ‘cause Boss saw you slacking off?” Jenna quips.

“Yes…” Gerard groans again, “they’re not gonna be happy.”

“Also ‘cause you were getting flirty with a living boy.”

“Oi!” He bites back, “I wasn’t getting flirty!”

Jenna looks at him incredulously before answering, “you may be able to kid yourself, but you can’t fool me,” she gives him an uncharacteristically serious stare as she silently leaves.

And as if his day can’t get any worse, as soon as she leaves in comes Boss.

“Gerard,” Boss says sternly.

“Yes, Boss?” He stops pacing out of respect - also ‘cause he’s getting dizzy.

“What were you thinking?” Boss doesn’t raise their voice and their face retains it’s familiar stoic and emotionless expression - maybe that’s worse.

“What do you mean?” Gerard tries appearing nonchalant, shoving down panic and hoping that Boss doesn’t see the way his hands tremble.

“You know exactly what I mean. Not only did you abandon your work during the dinner rush, but you also were fraternising with a member of the living,” Boss’ voice grows serious, emphasising the graveness of the situation.

Again Gerard schools his expression to remain unaffected despite his wobbling legs and the concoction of anger and anxiety bubbling in his throat, “first off, the place was basically empty. Secondly, what the hell do you mean by fraternising? I talked to him for a few minutes, so what?” He lets his annoyance override the fear, “you haven’t said shit about my other friends.”

Boss sighs, weariness creeping onto their face as they massage the bridge of their nose, “just know that all relationships between the living and the dead are destined to end in tragedy.”

“Does it look like I care?” Gerard snaps back, “it’s not like things can get any worse than actually being dead and stuck in this shithole.”

“I know,” is Boss’ response before they silently walk out the door, their lace cloak swishing on the floor behind them.

Gerard stumbles back onto the couch, this time laying down and curling into a ball.

He fiddles with the black ribbon on his wrist while only one thought runs through his head.

_ Don’t forget, you did this to yourself. _

* * *

Frank groans into his pillow when he wakes up, lying above the covers, still in the same clothes as last night. 

After leaving the diner last night, Frank finally met his Grandma Edith. She’s a sweet, short, old lady - even shorter than Frank which is an accomplishment - who gives him a plate of homemade raspberry jelly and a glass of homemade lemonade - both of which were amazing by the way.

Afterwards, they had spent about half an hour dragging boxes and bags in from the car, unpacking the essentials before unceremoniously flopping onto the spare beds covered in tacky, flower-patterned sheets.

After getting up he decides to spend his Sunday trying to get as much gaming in as possible before going back to school but his plans are quickly flipped on their head by the lack of working internet - or any technology past the 70’s - and his father yelling at him to unpack his stuff. So instead, while Mr Iero heads out shopping for technology from this century Frank goes on a mission to explore his new home.

He finds himself stumbling upon an old but still working record player alongside a shitload of old vinyls ranging from Elvis to The Beatles to Queen in a dusty room across the hall.

He ends up putting one on to listen to while he sets up all of his shit in his new room.

“Oh my, I haven’t heard these songs for a very long time,” Edith’s voice drifts through the hall before her form appears in his doorway, “not since Frankie died.”

Frank stiffens. Oh shit. He just put them on without even asking, “sorry, I- I can turn it off!”

“Oh I’m not mad,” she waves him off, “I think it’s lovely that you decided to play it. Reminds me of when Frankie and I used to dance together to them.”

“They really are cool Grandma,” he smiles up at her from where he’s digging through a box.

“Wow…” She sighs happily, “you know you remind me so much of him. You act so similarly and you look just like he did when we were young.”

Frank instinctively touches his face, “really?” He never really met his Grandfather - the man had died when he was only 7. Hell, he doesn’t even remember meeting his Grandma until yesterday.

“Oh yes, he used to look like that and he was just…” she starts to tear up as she reminisces. Frank gets an idea.

“You say you two used to dance to this music?” He stands.

“Yes, why?”

He holds out his hand, “shall we dance?”

“Oh, Frankie…” she smiles as she grabs his hand.

* * *

When Mr Iero arrives home he witnesses an unexpected but heartwarming sight. His hot-headed son dancing gently with his sweet mother, all while music crackles out of her old record player. He hasn’t seen her this happy since her husband died 10 years ago. He places the bags on the counter in the kitchen before heading back into the living room.

“Glad to see you two getting along,” he interjects.

“‘Sup, Dad,” Frank grins - clearly in a much better mood than earlier - letting his Grandma go, “what’d you get?”

“Just a little something for a light lunch, then we’re gonna go meet the neighbours,” Mr Iero strolls back off to the kitchen, Frank’s eyes lighting up at the prospect of food, completely disregarding the other half of the sentence.

After lunch, Frank pulls on a pair of shoes and the two are off to next door in order to introduce themselves.

Frank doesn’t know what he expected their neighbours to be like but certainly not like this. The house to the right is empty, a for-sale sign firmly planted in the front lawn and on the left…

“Hi, there! You must be Edith’s family. I’m Daniel.”

The man who answers the door seems normal enough with past the shoulder brown hair and a black and yellow striped sweater but then Frank’s eyes catch on the man’s pendant. Because it’s not a cross or even just a locket. No, it's a very different religious symbol. It’s a symbol that makes Frank’s blood freeze.

It’s an inverted pentagram. The very symbol of the devil and satanism worldwide.

“Uh, I’m Frank,” he says when he realises he’s being talked to. 

Daniel notices his gaze and just gives a small good-natured laugh, obviously used to people staring, “don’t worry kiddo, I’m not some evil devil worshipper like all them Christian’s make us out to be. I’m just someone who rejects conformity and practices individuality.”

“Oh…” Frank feels kinda bad for assuming, “I reject all that conformity bullshit too.”

“That’s awesome,” Daniel laughs again, “now why don’t you two come inside for a nice cup of tea.”

* * *

Frank very quickly befriends Daniel Curcio, liking him instantly despite the large number of candles and mystical artifacts scattered around the house. He finds himself warming up to him even more when he meets the man’s partner, Sebastian Danzig, admitting that he himself is gay at the man’s worried look, realising that this place is far more progressive than Belleville. As they leave next door, saying goodbye to Mr Curio and Mr Danzig Frank realises that maybe this place isn’t that bad after all.

The only drawback is that it isn’t until after a delicious dinner - “I’m so happy to be able to cook for a big family again” - that he’s able to get away to the diner.

Driving to the diner in his Dad’s shitty car seems to take centuries, his mind occupied with nerves forcing his body to run on autopilot, trying to follow directions from his Google Maps which keeps cutting out.

He parks the car in front of the same glaring sign as last night before a sudden thought strikes him, glueing him to his seat, _ “what if he’s not here? He did say he spends most of his time here but what if he went home?” _

After 5 minutes of arguing with himself, he forces himself out of the car, locking it and running his hands up and down his arms covered in goosebumps. 

The little bell chimes and he contemplates going back home. Just turning around, getting back in his car, and going home. Maybe hiding under his bed for another 50 years.

This is all thrown down the drain when the red-head he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about since last night appears before him.

“Hey, Frank!”

“Hey Gerard,” He manages to keep his voice level and swallow the butterflies.

“You can call me Gee,” Gerard leads him to the counter before slipping behind it, letting Frank slide onto one of the stools, “all my friends do.”

“Friends? You have friends?” Frank teases.

“I feel like I should be offended but yeah they go to Thornsbury High,” Gerard grins back before turning his back to Frank, “so what do you want to order?”

“Chocolate milkshake, please,” Frank leans back in his seat, almost falling off leaving him clinging to the counter glad that Gerard didn’t see him.

“A milkshake, this late?” Gerard questions amusedly but starts making it anyway.

“It’s never too late for a milkshake,” Frank laughs a little at the rhyme, “so when you say your friends go to the high school, are you saying you don’t?”

“Yeah, I work here full time.”

“A high school dropout, I like it,” Frank licks his lips and not just because of the amazing looking milkshake - if you know what he means.

“Something like that…” Gerard hands over the milkshake and leans against the counter.

The rest of their conversation goes the same way it did yesterday. Comparing interests, telling jokes, etc with Gerard making himself a milkshake and sitting on a stool beside him.

Frank ends up with his head on Gerard’s shoulder listening to the red-head going on about Green Day before piping up.

“I could play you one of their songs sometime.”

“Wait, you can play an instrument?” Gerard startles Frank off him, with the smaller boy almost falling out of his seat yet again.

After regaining his balance he replies, “yeah, I’ve been learning guitar since I was little. You play anything?”

“God, no,” Gerard shakes his head, “I can’t play an instrument to save my life,” he hesitates before adding, “I used to sing to my little brother sometimes…”

Frank notices that he gets the same forlorn expression that he did yesterday when Frank mentioned his parents, so he decides to not press on the topic in favour of saying, “you sing! Man, I’d love to hear you sometime.”

“I’m not really that good,” Gerard mumbles, not meeting his eyes.

“I’m sure that’s bullshit! I bet you’re an amazing singer!”

Frank doesn’t miss the blush on Gerard’s face as he stutters out a “thanks”.

* * *

“I predict… Hmm, let’s see… I predict… that a new student will start Thornsbury High… tomorrow!” Bob Bryar proclaims in his ‘spooky’ voice from his perch on a desk covered in random bottles of liquid and powders.

Ray Toro merely rolls his eyes at his friend's antics as he stirs a pot full of something that is definitely not food, “I know Bob, I told you that yesterday.”

Bob gasps, “how did _ you _know?”

“Because I’m student body president?” Ray just shakes his head.

“Ugh, you never let me have any fun,” the blond sulks, dropping down to the wooden floor.

“Face it, Bob, you can’t predict shit. You’re not a seer,” Ray says, no real venom or cruelty in his voice. He’s merely stating a fact.

“You’re a jerk,” Bob pouts while making his way over to the witch boy, “also what the hell are you making?”

“Protection amulets,” Ray continues stirring, speaking as if it should’ve been obvious.

“Why exactly?” 

“Because we have no idea what this new student is like! We’ve never had a new student in like the 12 years we’ve been at school in this town!” The curly-haired boy throws his hands around, abandoning mixing the mysterious substance, “they could be a demon in disguise, you never know!”

  
It’s Bob’s turn to roll his eyes, “and they say _ I’m _ paranoid.”


	3. Hunters and High school

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank finally starts Thornsbury High.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Allusions to suicide and mourning. Also, I forgot that Frank's lactose intolerant - at least that's what I'm told.
> 
> Also holy shit my chem is back and they're coming to nz which is where I am.

** _1999_ **

_ Two months. _

_ He’s been working here for two months. If only his parents could see him now. He’s never been able to hold down a job for this long. _

_ Not when he was alive at least. _

_ Oh yeah. He’s also been dead for two months now. _

_ “So am I finally allowed to go see my family?” Gerard groans into the table he’d previously been wiping down. _

_ “Yeah, when you’re not working,” he can almost hear the blonde waitresses eyes roll, “but be warned, they probably won’t be able to see you,” she sighs before going back to scrubbing away at a particularly stubborn coffee stain. _

_ “What do you mean?” Gerard is confused, all the living customers can see him. He voices this Jenna and her reply is extremely blunt. _

_ “Boss’ abilities don’t extend past here.” _

_ Gerard’s eyes widen. _So Mikey won’t be able to see me…

_ “Also if you plan on going to see them, it’s wise to avoid the place you died.” _

_ His room. _

_ “When do I clock out?” _

* * *

_ Gerard’s house is almost just like he remembers. Key word being almost. It is far too quiet and solemn as if all the colour had been drained away. _

_ It’s almost as if someone died here… _

_ He tries turning the doorknob, only to find his hand passing through the door instead. _

Trippy. _ He thinks. The only other time that happened was… _

_ No! He’s not going down that road. _

_ He shakes his head as if it would rid him of those memories and goes through the door completely into an empty hall. He ignores it in favour of going straight to Mikey’s bedroom. _

_ And then he hears it. Muffled sobbing. _

_ “Oh Mikey,” he whispers before entering the room. _

_ Gerard’s eyes lock onto his little brother’s shaking form, curled in on itself. _

_ As if pulled by an invisible force, Gerard sits at the edge of the bed - and by sit, he means hover slightly above the crinkled bed sheets. His hand ghosts over Mikey’s hair, not quite touching. _

_ He doesn’t know when he starts singing but he can feel his eyes burning with tears of his own. _

_ “If I could be with you tonight. I would sing you to sleep. Never let them take the light behind your eyes…” _

_ Water soaks his jeans but not the sheets below him as he finishes the song. _

_ “I failed and lost this fight. Never fade in the dark. Just remember you will always burn as bright.” _

_ “The light behind your eyes…” he repeats the last line several times noticing the evening of Mikey’s breathing and his eyes fluttering closed. _

_ Gerard is just about to get up and leave before Mikey mumbles “Gee…” with the corners of his mouth lifting in a slight smile. _

_ He can’t do anything more than lean down and kiss his brother’s forehead and say, “goodnight, Mikey.” _

_ And when Michael James Way wakes up from a strange but comforting dream with a voice he hasn’t head since Gerard’s death still ringing in his ears, he finds himself staring down a disgusting creature covered in boils at the end of his bed. _

_ He throws a pocket knife, hitting it square in the forehead and starts on his journey to becoming a full-on demon hunter. _

* * *

Frank just manages to get to the bus stop on time. And by that meaning literally sprinting just as the bus is pulling up. He’d take the car but his father is currently using it to get to some gig a few towns away.

The bus is packed with only one free seat which he sinks into, glad to have made it in time. The person beside him is a chubby but pretty girl who sneakily offers him a piece of homemade bread which he declines in favour of pulling out his earbuds

When all the students file out of the bus he notices something strange. There are no cliques. Like none. The most of a clique he sees is a group of three cheerleaders who immediately bolt over to a goth girl.

He raises his eyebrows slightly at this before realising something much more important. Where the fuck is he supposed to go? He doesn’t even know when and where his classes are.

_ Fuck. _

However, he is quickly rescued from his confusion by a pair of boys striding up to him. Well… one of them is striding at least, the other sort of scuttles behind his friend. 

The more confident one has a large afro on his head and is dressed in sensible clothes more akin to a nine to five office worker than a high school student, “you must be the new kid, right?”

“How did you know?” _ Wow, way to make a first impression. _

The guy doesn’t seem deterred, grinning, “well I’ve never seen you before and you seem real confused. Also, I knew you were coming.”

“How?”

“I’m Student Body President, and I’m supposed to be showing around. By the way, I forgot to introduce myself - awfully rude of me I know. I’m Ray Toro,” he says without allowing Frank to get a word in.

“Oh, I’m Frank,” Frank mumbles, a little overwhelmed, “Frank Iero.”

“Cool, this is Bob Bryar,” Ray gestures to the blond.

“‘Sup.”

“Well, I should probably take you to the office, come with me,” Ray seems a bit too perky for Frank as they head into the school building.

“Don’t worry man, he’s usually not like this. It’s just a persona,” Bob pipes up falling into step beside Frank.

“That’s comforting,” Frank frowns.

Just when they arrive at the office doors the bell rings and Frank watches as the only sane person at this school so far bids them a quick “bye” before sprinting off.

“Come on,” Ray leads Frank inside where a waiting room lies. Sitting behind a desk is a Japanese woman, typing on a computer.

“Hi, Miss Jade,” Ray smiles down at her.

“Good morning, Ray. What can I do for you?” She speaks to him just as kindly.

“Can you get Frank here his timetable? He’s our new student,” he pulls Frank forward.

“Sure!” She seems far too perky as well.

As the pair are standing to wait for Frank’s timetable to print a man striders through the door. He looks really young, late-twenties at the oldest and walks like he owns the place. Ray greets the man as well, albeit less casually.

“Good morning, Principal Martin,” Principal? This guy’s the principal? With his Beetlejuice-esk striped suit coupled with severely teased hair and slightly wild eyes he looks more like an 80’s rockstar than a principal.

“‘Morning, Ray,” the man pats Ray on the shoulder as he passes by.

“Frank looks at Ray incredulously, “are you friends with _ everyone _at this school?”

Ray chuckles a this, thanking Miss Jade before passing Frank his timetable, “not _ everyone _but I’m on reasonably good terms with all the teachers and stuff.”

“How? And why?” Frank is still stunned.

Ray - aka the teacher's pet - pulls him out of the office, “just between you and me, it makes it a lot easier to get away with shit. So I can just walk out of class or sleep at my desk and the teachers don’t give a shit.”

“Lucky,” Frank sighs, “I swear the teachers at my old school hated me. I kept getting detention for the stupidest shit… Though I guess the kids didn’t like me very much either.”

“You do seem like the type to get into fights easily.”

“Oi, what’s that supposed to mean?” Frank jokes only to get an awkward and slightly forced laugh out of Ray. He doesn’t miss the way that the other boy recoils and clutches the stone hanging from his neck.

“What’s the necklace for?”

Ray startles, “oh nothing…” He refuses to look him in the eye. “Well, here’s our class,” he quickly changes the topic as they arrive at a classroom.

_ The fuck is going on. _

* * *

The day goes mostly smoothly other than Ray occasionally giving him odd looks. They’re in the same English and History classes - with the same weird-ass principal actually teaching History - but when Maths rolls around Frank is forced to endure the class on his own.

The silver lining is that the girl from the bus is there. She doesn’t seem too peeved about him rejecting her offer of food, instead, introducing herself as Jamia Nestor and offering to help him with the textbook questions. He again politely turns her down seeing as he isn’t planning on doing any work in the class. Even then she’s still kind causing him to add her to the pile of potential friends alongside Ray and Bob - if Ray would stop acting weird that is.

He ends up walking with Jamia to the cafeteria - he finds that she’s very into comics and old noir films. They end up bumping into Ray and Bob again who are both still wearing those weird pendants - are they in a cult?

The four of them all sit at a table in a secluded corner. Frank is just getting ready to tuck into an actually decent (well as decent as cafeteria food can be) looking salad when Bob and Ray share a look and…

Frank wipes the water off his face, “the fuck was that for?”

“Yeah, what’s going on?” Jamia seems just as confused and concerned.

“Sorry. It’s just… Well…” Ray stumbles with his words.

“Spit it out,” Frank snaps.

“You’re the first student Thornsbury’s had in years. I had to make sure you weren’t a…” Ray trails off, looking down at his tray, at least looking a little ashamed.

“A what?” Frank questions.

“A demon,” Bob lowers his voice to a whisper.

“Demons don’t exist,” he rolls his eyes.

“Oi, keep your voice down,” Jamia hushes Frank.

“Excuse me what the fuck?” He hisses back.

“Wow, you really are new,” Bob laughs before being nudged to be quiet by Ray, “this place is crawling with the supernatural. It’s actually becoming quite a nuisance. The other day Gee had to shoo a fae out of the diner. It was fucking-”

“Wait, Gee?” Frank interrupts, “as in Gerard from the diner?”

“You’ve met him already?”

“Yeah on Saturday when I got here,” Frank says before they’re cut off by the bell.

“Come on, we’ll go to the diner after school,” Ray drags Frank off to class.

“Can’t I just skip the rest of the day,” Frank whines.

“It’s your first day of school!”

* * *

When Frank is finally able to escape the hell that is high school - his teachers don’t seem to hate him, yet - he and Ray meet with Jamia, Bob, and that goth girl that he saw talking to the cheerleaders this morning.

“You must be Frank, huh,” the girl holds out her hand to shake before pulling him into a brief hug, “I’m Lindsey.”

“Nice to meet ya Lindsey, cool Ramones jacket,” he can already tell the two of them are gonna be good friends.

“Same,” she grins with lips heavily slathered in bright red lipstick.

“Should we get going, we can take my truck?” Bob suggests.

“Awesome, lead the way,” Lindsey claps, energetically running off.

Frank notices how Jamia’s gaze lingers on the pig-tailed girl.

“Someone’s got a crush,” he teases.

“Piss off,” Jamia shoves him forward.

* * *

Being the tiny guy he is, Frank gets stuck in between the two girls with Bob driving and Ray chilling in shotgun.

It does mean he gets to discuss music with Lindsey though. He finds out that she’s the bassist in a local band called Mindless Self Indulgence which he tells her is fucking awesome. Ray pipes up about his own guitar experience.

“I have no idea how he manages to balance his student council responsibilities, good grades, social life, ...other hobbies, and still has the time to play guitar like a god,” Bob laments as he pulls up to the diner.

“Maybe ‘cause I don’t spend all my free time playing video games. Also, I’m not _ that _good,” Ray shoots back while they all slip out of the car.

“You know that’s not true,” Bob says locking the truck and leading the group inside.

“I play too, it’d be cool to jam together sometime,” Frank suggests to Ray.

“I’d be down for that.”

* * *

When Gerard turns up Frank realises that Ray, Bob, Jamia, and Lindsey were the friends he mentioned yesterday. The red-head doesn’t seem surprised that he had already made friends with the four.

“Disappointed but not surprised,” Gerard says when he sees the aforementioned group.

“Why are you disappointed?” Bob laughs.

“I thought it’d be longer before you guys corrupted him.”

“You say that like I was ever innocent,” Frank jibes.

_ “Turn away…” _ Gerard hums as he returns with their drinks and snacks - that are quality by the way, _ “if you could get me a drink of water ‘cause my lips are chapped and faded.” _

“What’re you humming?” Frank asks taking a sip of his drink.

“Huh?” Gerard looks up before turning slightly pink, “oh, oh it’s nothing. Just a little something I wrote.”

  
You’re a singer _ and _a songwriter?” Frank exclaims.

“Hell yeah, he is!” Bob says through a mouthful of doughnut.

“Bob, don’t speak with your mouth full,” Ray reprimands.

“I wouldn’t really say that…” Gerard sheepishly puts his left hand up to his head before recoiling slightly - a sensitive spot maybe? - and gently brushing his hair further forward.

The glimpse of his wrist reminds Frank of something. “Hey, I meant to ask before, but what’s with the ribbon?” Frank blurts out before immediately regretting it as Gerard’s eyes go wide.

“Frank,” Ray warns.

“It’s fine,” Gerard waves Ray off, “makes sense he’d be curious. It’s for mental health awareness…” He trails off.

“Oh,” Frank is dumbstruck, “okay then,” he says awkwardly.

The atmosphere becomes tense after that with Jamia quickly excusing herself and the others following suit not long after, sending rushed goodbyes.

It soon ends up with just the two of them, again.

“Sorry, I made things awkward, didn’t I?” Frank stares down at the table embarrassed and ashamed.

“It’s all good. You just asked a question. How were you supposed to know?”

At least Gerard doesn’t seem too mad, but he may have just messed up his chance with the others.

“Don’t worry about them,” it’s almost like Gerard is reading his thoughts, “I know them. Trust me, they’ll have moved on by tomorrow.”

“I hope you’re right. They’re already the coolest people in this town - other than you of course. It would be a shame to lose them.”

“It’ll be fine,” Gerard gently places his hand on Frank’s shoulder.

Frank leans into the touch, glad for the comfort.

* * *

It’s almost 11 pm when Andrew Berkley Martin slips into bed - and he thought he left his problematic sleeping habits back in high school. Before he can properly get settled in he catches a glimpse of the two framed photos sitting on his desk. He retrieves them, running his thumb over them one at a time.

The first is a picture of him, Sebastian, and Daniel at their high school graduation, all wearing those stupid graduation hats and robes, clutching their high school diplomas. He smiles down at it. He can’t believe it’s been nearly ten years since that day. Back then he thought he was free of that hell. Not anymore. If school’s supposed to be hell than he’s the devil. He snorts at that thought.

The second picture is much older, probably from when he was around 7. He’s standing in the middle, holding a crummy drawing of his family. Not just him and his mom either. Also in the drawing are the other two boys in the photo. Mikey and Gerard Way. The picture was taken only mere months before Gerard disappeared from their lives forever (at least that’s what he had thought back then). Looking back, he can see the pain and suffering in the older boy’s eyes, hidden behind a fake smile.

If only he had seen it back then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs are The Light Behind Your Eyes and Cancer


	4. Girlfriends and Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Andrew met Gerard, some girl bonding, and what is up with Frank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who got tickets to the NZ My Chemical Romance show... me

** _2015_ **

_ Andrew shoves the rest of his bags into his new mini-cooper, ready to head to his new home in Thornsbury. _

_ You might think to yourself: “Why would a newly graduated History and Teaching major want to move to a small town in Maine?” _

_ It’s simple really. The local council already gave him the job as principal at Thornsbury High despite him being only 23 years old. Sebastian and Daniel already living here is a bonus. _

_ The drive isn’t too long (at least not as long as it would be if he was still living in his hometown of Belleville.)  _

_ He’s not too worried about it. The first time moved in early 2000 when he was 7 had been a horrible experience. Just coming off a tragic loss and then being separated from everything and everyone he ever knew was the worst thing in the world. However, after 10 years of constantly moving house plus another 5 years at college, he no longer felt anything other than numb. Hopefully, this will be the last move for a while. _

_ Hopefully. _

* * *

_ He’s gotten so good at moving his stuff in that at this point that he can work on muscle memory. He lets himself relax into the familiar routine, all the while playing music through his headphones. _

_ Halfway through he finds himself craving a coffee. Seeing as his coffee maker is still buried under mountains of his things he decides to opt for ducking over to the diner across the road. _

_ “Good morning, how can I help you?” The fakest cheery voice he’s ever heard greets him when he enters. _

_ He walks up to the counter. “Hi. I’d just like a coffee…” he trails off when his eyes meet the man’s face. _

_ No, no, no. _

_ He knew that face. A long time ago. A face he never thought he’d see again outside of photos. _

_ “G- Gee?” He stutters out as he backs away, catching sight of the servers nametag, which indeed says ‘Gerard’. _

_ “Andrew?” Gerard’s eyes widen as he speaks in an equally shocked voice, recognizing him. _

_ “Oh fuck,” Andrew continues inching back, not breaking eye contact for a second, holding his hands in the air in an expression of shock, “nope, nope, nope. Fuck this,” he runs out the door onto the pavement. _

_ “Holy shit,” he whispers to himself and wow he’s swearing a lot today. He promised to stop doing that when he took the job. He guesses he should get a free pass because the guy who he thought died almost 2 decades ago is suddenly working at a diner in his new town, across the street from his new house. Special circumstances, ya know. _

_ “This can’t be fucking happening,” he paces in a circle, not caring who sees him. _

_ “Okay, okay,” he forces himself to come to a stop, “okay Andrew. You’re just hallucinating. It’s just the stress of a new job and a new town. Either that or it’s the residue of that time back in ‘09,” he tries to reason. _

_ “Let’s just get back inside and everything will be fine.” _

_ For absolutely no reason - other than maybe trying to prove that this actually is a hallucination - he walks crouched with his shoulders square and his arms bent in what Gerard used to call the ‘Luther’ pose - something he named after one of his OC’s. _

_ As soon as he gets inside, he’s face to face again with Gerard who grins amusedly at him. Andrew speaks. _

_ “Excuse me, what the fuck?” _

* * *

After his dad arrives back home at 3 am - promptly stumbling and collapsing fully clothed on the couch - Frank finally gets to use the car again. No more rushing to the bus stop. Now he can leisurely drive to school.

He parks in the school car park - which he’s pretty sure is reserved for the teachers but he doesn’t give a shit - scanning the area for Ray and Bob, or even Jamia and Lindsey. He finally spots the two boys slipping into the school building. Frank sprints after them, making it inside just after them.

“Hey, you guys,” Frank starts casually. Ray just looks at him blankly.

“Uh, sorry about yesterday. I’m sorry for making things awkward between us,” Frank says sheepishly.

“Eh, it’s ‘kay,” Bob waves him off, “Ray’s just overreacting.”

“Ray?” Frank tries, “I’m really sorry. I overstepped, didn’t I.”

Ray contemplates for a moment before mustering up a slight smile, “I guess I am overreacting.”

“If it makes you feel better, I already apologized to Gerard and he seemed okay,” Frank reassures Ray as they continue down the hallway.

“Thought as much. He’s probably come to terms with it by now.”

“With what?”

Ray just gives him a strange, almost pitying look before saying, “don’t worry, it’s nothing.”

_ What? _

* * *

Lindsey and Jamia haven’t had enough times like this lately. The pair of them just sitting on Jamia’s bedroom, no boys, as Lindsey applies dabs of makeup on Jamia’s face. If only Jamia would stop moving.

“Stay still!” Lindsey mock orders.

“I refuse,” Jamia giggles.

“Stop blinking, it’s gonna mess up your mascara,” Lindsey scolds, holding the mascara brush up to Jamia’s eyes for a third attempt.

“You keep poking me!” She blindly reaches over to where she thinks their bowl of popcorn is. She misses by an inch effectively knocking it over. “Fuck.”

“Oi! Watch that potty mouth,” Lindsey pokes her eye again.

“Make me,” Jamia teases before immediately realising what she just said, her face heating up.

“You really want me to?” Lindsey’s voice sounds so serious that Jamia opens her eyes.

“Y-yes,” she can feel herself go red beneath the foundation.

“Well, shall I then,” Lindsey grins with those beautiful ruby red lipstick lips.

Jamia nods and then her lips are against Lindsey’s as the other girl pulls her forward, gently tilting her chin into the kiss.

When they break apart Jamia can still feel that ruby red lipstick on her lips. Lindsey pauses to reapply her lipstick as Mrs Nestor comes knocking at the door telling them not to stay up too late.

As soon as her mom leaves Jamia’s crashing her lips back onto Lindsey’s.

Lindsey doesn’t end up finishing Jamia’s mascara.

* * *

Gerard’s calmly chilling in the Thornsbury mall during his break when he sees his friends walk through the automatic doors. He finds himself instinctively waving despite knowing they can’t see him.

Mr Curcio is the only living person who can see him outside of the diner - probably ‘cause of all that Satanic shit he’s into - so he’s extremely disconcerted when Frank of all people looks him right in the eyes and waves back.

_ The fuck?  _

“Guys, look. It’s Gee,” Frank shakes Ray’s arm - he knew Ray would come around.

“Huh?” Ray looks over to where Frank’s pointing directly at him but Gerard can tell that he can only see the bench he’s semi-sitting on and the leafy indoor plant behind him.

“Dude, he’s right there,” confusion radiated off of Frank’s form.

“Go say hi then,” Ray gives Frank an odd look before following the rest of the group in the opposite direction.

“Hey, Gee!” Frank bounces over, “I don’t know what’s wrong with that lot but they kept pretending that you aren’t here.”

“Maybe ‘cause I’m a ghost,” Gerard deadpans - ha,  _ dead _ pans - but Frank merely laughs.

“Funny joke, but it’s a bit early for Halloween.”

Gerard has to fight back a groan at Frank’s naivety and choke out a matching chuckle.

* * *

“You ready to go?” The man enters the room and finds his blond boyfriend glued to his laptop screen.

“Just a minute,” the blond replies, scribbling something down on his notepad.

The dark-haired man rolls his eyes at his antics while said boyfriend slams his laptop shut.

“Where are we headed this time?” He hooks his arm through the blonds one.

“Good old Thornsbury, Maine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That is the closest to a smut scene I will ever write. Also sorry this one's shorter than normal.


	5. Demons and Deathbeds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard meets with Daniel and we find out more about Gerard's past. 
> 
> Songs are Summertime and Brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAJOR TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR THE LAST SCENE OF THE CHAPTER. (There will be a warning just before the scene.)
> 
> \- suicide  
\- talk of suicidal and self-deprecating thoughts  
\- mentions of depression  
\- mourning  
\- death

What is the most reasonable action when you find out that a completely normal person can see your disembodied spirit?

Panic? Already done that.

Pretend everything’s fine? Impossible.

Confront them about it? Yeah, not gonna happen.

So what’s a ghost, like himself supposed to do?

Ask for backup.

Of course, asking anyone at the diner is a bad idea - at best, it would lead to relentless teasing, and at worst… Frank could end up maybe dead - so he has to pick the next viable option.

Daniel Curcio.

“Hey, Mr Curcio? You home?” Gerard calls out as he floats through their front door. He’s pretty glad it’s a weekday leaving little to no chance that Frank would be home to witness this.

“Hi there, Gerard,” Daniel greets as he steps up out of the basement, “did you need anything or did you just come to say hi to your favourite person in town?”

“Sorry to disappoint but I actually need help. Besides, you’re not my favourite person in town,” Gerard laughs as they make their way into the living room.

“That hurts Gee."

Daniel Curcio’s lounge is a lot different than the one in Gerard’s childhood home. Instead of a bunch of crosses and those stupid “live, laugh, love” things that Mrs Way loved to hang up beside family photos with forced smiles it’s lit with a candle chandelier and multiple scented candles and sage sticks. The room, decorated in jewels and knickknacks hanging from the ceiling and placed on the shelves alongside leather-bound journals, culminates into a centrepiece of the black rug displaying a red inverted pentagram. Mr Curcio settles into a rickety armchair while Gerard makes himself at home on the soft sofa.

“So what happened?”

“Frank Iero can see me,” Gerard anxiously nibbles on his nails.

“And?”

“Outside of the diner, Curcio,” he rolls his eyes.

“Well shit,” Daniel leans back in his seat, shocked.

“Yeah.”

“Is he religious?” The man tries.

“Wouldn’t think so,” Gerard says, causing Daniel to frown.

“He didn’t seem like the religious type to me either,” Daniel contemplates this for a few moments before sighing, “I don’t think we should do anything about it just yet. Not until we have more information. Does he know you’re a ghost?”

“Surprisingly, not yet,” Gerard replies.

Daniel appears amused, “it’s probably nothing to worry about right now. But make sure to tell me if anything changes,” the man pauses before adding, “but not on Tuesday nights.”

“Why not Tuesdays?”

“Tuesday nights are board game nights.”

“With who?” The only person that would attend a board game night with Daniel would be Sebastian and maybe Andrew if he’s not working late. Nobody’s played board games since Gerard was alive.

“Sebastian, Andrew... the Devil… sometimes others but…” Daniel trails off at Gerard’s shocked expression, “what?”

“You… You have game nights with the Devil? The fucking Devil?” Gerard stares.

“Yes?”

Gerard breathes in heavily before saying:

“Excuse me what?”

* * *

The peaceful silence of Thornsbury Library is broken when a man slams the doors open.

A ripped denim vest, leather jeans, and multiple face piercings greet the regular library patrons quietly reading when he stomps inside. The young woman behind the counter doesn’t even look up from her phone.

He stalks up to her only for her to continue to ignore him, choosing instead to scroll through social media.

“Heh hem,” he clears his throat but doesn’t even get so much as a flinch in response, “excuse me,” he slams his hand down on the front desk.

This gets her attention, if only slightly, “yeah?” She drawls.

“Would you happen to know where I would be able to find a book on destroying a grim reaper?”

“Ugh,” she still pointedly won’t look at him, “the D&D books are down the back, but you can’t get them out.”

This angers the man, “do you even know who you’re talking to?” His eyes start to turn black as his hands fill with matching flames. This is what causes the young woman to look up from her device, her eyes widening with shock. “I am the great demon Abaddon! My name in your world is synonymous with the very concept of destruction!”

“Dude I can’t help you!” The woman finally finds her footing again, “I don’t know where some fucking book on grim reapers and shit is.”

Abaddon huffs and floats away, taking the aforementioned Dungeons and Dragons books with him.

“Oi! You can’t just take those!”

* * *

** _1999 - April_ **

_ “Happy birthday Gee!” A young boy presents a 17-year-old Gerard Way with a badly wrapped present. _

_ This little boy is 7-year-old Andrew Berkley Martin and Gerard and Mikey are the older brothers he’s never had. _

_ “Thanks, little man!” Gerard takes the gift and ruffles Andrew’s hair. _

_ “Sorry for the very sudden request Gerard,” Miss Martin sheepishly smiles, pulling her coat on, “I know it’s your birthday.” _

_ “Eh, these things happen sometimes,” he waves her off. _

_ “Well I have to get to work so I’ll see you later,” the woman gives him a quick hug, careful not to crush the gift still held in his hand. She then moves onto her son, giving Andrew a gentle kiss on the forehead, “have fun you two. Make sure he behaves and doesn’t stay up too late!” _

_ “Will do Miss Martin!” He reassures her as she heads to the car. He shuts the door behind them and turns to Andrew, “so, what do you wanna do tonight kiddo?” He takes Andrew’s hand and leads him to the living room. _

_ “I wanna watch a movie! But you gotta open your present first!” Andrew jumps up and down. _

_ “Okay, okay,” Gerard laughs, settling onto the sofa and laying the present in his lap. _

_ “Open it! Open it!” The little boy chants launching himself to land beside the red-head. _

_ “Okay, okay! I’m opening it,” he unravels the ribbon before gently unwrapping the paper. _

_ Lying among the campy colourful paper with “Happy Birthday” plastered all over it is a T-shirt. But not just any T-shirt. No. A Green Day shirt proudly adorned with the Dookie album cover. _

_ “Wow…” Gerard takes the shirt in his hands, running his fingers over the soft fabric. _

_ “Do you like it? Mom helped me pick it out,” Andrew is bouncing in place. _

_ “I love it, Andrew,” Gerard gathers the little boy in his arms, squeezing him tight, “I wish Mikey was here so I could rub it in his face.” _

_ “Where is Mikey?” Andrew asks, rocking back and forth. _

_ “He’s sick. Sadly.” _

_ “Aww,” the little boy sighs before perking up again, “can we watch a movie now?” _

* * *

_ It’s almost 8 pm when Gerard tucks little Andrew into bed. _

_ “Goodnight little man,” Gerard pulls the blankets up to Andrew’s chin. _

_ “No story?” Andrew whines. _

_ “No story. Something better.” _

_ “What?” His eyes light up in anticipation. _

_ “A song,” Gerard says, brushing Andrew’s hair out of his eyes. _

_ “Ooh, I love songs!” _

_ “Well then,” Gerard clears his throat. _

_ “When the lights go out... will you take me with you… and carry all this broken bone… through six years in a crowded room and highways, I called home…” Gerard smiles down at Andrew. He reminds himself of Mikey when he was little. _

_ “...if you stay… I would even wait all night… or until my heart explodes…” Andrew starts to drift off to sleep, “how long… until we find our way… in the dark and out of harm? You can run away with me… anytime you want…” _

* * *

_ The phone falls from her hand. _

_ “Mom?” Andrew looks up to his mother who has a look in her eyes he’s never seen before. Even at such a young age, he can tell something’s up, “Momma?” _

_ “Oh, Andrew…” Miss Martin has tears in her eyes as she bends down to be face to face with her son. _

_ “Mom, what’s going on?” Andrew is worried now. What happened? _

_ “Oh, baby. Oh, my baby boy,” his mom gathers him up, crushing him in her usually weak arms. _

_ “Wha-” _

_ It isn’t until many years later that he realises that that night was the night  _ ** _it _ ** _ happened. _

_ That was the night that Gerard died. _

* * *

_ WARNING MILDLY GRAPHIC MENTIONS OF SUICIDE AND SUICIDAL/SELF-DEPRECATING THOUGHTS AHEAD. PLEASE SKIP THE REST OF THE CHAPTER IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO SUCH CONTENT. _

* * *

** _1999 - September_ **

_ When Gerard opens his eyes to the same old beige walls dotted with posters of his bedroom he doesn’t know how to feel. Disappointed? Relieved? He doesn’t know. All he does know is that something feels wrong. Off. _

_ Footsteps behind him shock him out of his stupor. He spins around - when was he standing? He doesn’t remember standing - and comes face to face with a hooded figure.  _

_ “Woah! Who the fuck are you? And how did you get in my room? Hell, how the fuck did you get in my house?” _

_ “Be calm Gerard Way,” the figure, cloaked in black speaks. _

_ “How the fuck do you know my name?” He steps back before his feet touch something searing cold. _

_ It’s not until then does he hear the quiet whimpers. _

_ “Gee… no…” It’s Mikey. _

_ Gerard turns back around and… _

_ ...no. _

_ If you had asked him what he thought he’d feel like when he dies he would say that he’d feel free but all he can feel is a spiked cocktail of confusing emotions - a stark contrast to the numbness of depression - mixed with a frozen figure of shock. He can’t take his eyes off the body lying on the carpet - his body.  _

_ “What kind of sick joke is this?” He whispers. _

_ “You know that it’s not a joke,” the being behind him speaks again. _

_ “Gee please no…” And Mikey, oh Mikey. He wasn’t supposed to be home for another few hours. He wasn’t supposed to witness this. _

_ “Mikey, hey. I’m right here,” Gerard reaches out to touch Mikey’s shoulder only for his hand to pass right through causing Mikey to shiver. _

_ “He can’t hear or see you,” says the being from behind him. _

_ “So who are you supposed to be then? The Grim Reaper? Are you here to collect my soul or some shit?” Gerard turns back to face them with a scowl. _

_ “One of them and no,” at Gerard’s confused expression elaborates, “not yet anyway.” _

_ “Wait, why?” _

_ “You’re not supposed to be here. You weren’t supposed to die so soon,” the grim reaper explains, “your soul is not ready to move on yet.” _

_ “So I’m stuck here?” _

_ “Until you’re ready to move on, yes,” they confirm. _

_ “So I’m a ghost? Then what the hell are you doing here then?” _

_ “That’s where my proposition comes in.” _

_ “What proposition?” He sits crossed-legged beside his mourning brother. _

_ “I want you to come work at my diner in Maine.” _

_ “Why would you want  _ ** _me _ ** _ to work there?” Gerard stares incredulously at them, “and why would I agree to that?” _

_ “I like to keep an eye on spirits, make sure they don’t do anything to endanger the living world. This is the best way to do so,” they say, settling on the bed, carefully stepping around the scene on the ground, “and it is also in the best interest for you. See, my diner is powered by my abilities meaning I can ‘bend’ the rules of mortality a little. You will have the ability to be fully corporeal there.” _

_ “Really?” _

_ “Yes Gerard,” they watch Gerard as he turns to his brother, still refusing to look back at his body. “I am giving you a second chance. A fresh start if you will.” _

_ “I’ll think about it,” Gerard says after a few moments of pondering. The red-head then turns his back completely on his future boss, focussing his attention solely on Mikey. _

_ “Gerard, please wake up,” Mikey pleads but there’s no real faith in it, just desperation. _

_ “Mikes,” his eyes well with tears while Mikey’s are completely dry and unseeing - in shock perhaps. Gerard guesses anyone would be in shock after coming to their brother’s dead body on the ground. _

_ Even though Mikey can’t hear him he sings as he used to when Mikey was seven and came into his room afraid of the thunder. _

_ “Does anyone have the time to bring me down? And can I sleep… all night long… to the drums of the city rain…” _


	6. Guitars and Graveyards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened to Mikey?  
What's going on with Frank?  
Will Gerard and Frank ever fricking kiss?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING. So extra-long chapter for you.
> 
> I was sick, then busy, then depressed, then busy, then depressed, then just more and more depressed, then busy again now that I've started tertiary for like one week before my entire country was put in isolation. Hopefully, I'll use this isolation to get some more writing done. HOPEFULLY.
> 
> The songs for this chapter are Holiday by Green Day & Kill All Your Friends by My Chemical Romance. Also, I suggest listening to The Kids Aren't Alright by Fall Out Boy while reading the flashbacks.

** _January 2000_ **

_ It was only mere days after his 15th birthday that he came home on that fateful day. The first day of school. He’d planned on going over to a “friend’s” house after school but went home instead after hearing that Gee ditched class - Gerard never ditched class - only to find his elder brother's body lying dead at the foot of his bed, a bullet in his head - never to move again. _

_ Gerard had seemed so happy in the days before, the days leading up to… it. They thought he was getting better. They - no  _ ** _he _ ** _ \- should’ve known better. That it was too good to be true. That he was only getting worse, especially after the last two times. _

_ Mikey shakes his head. His parents tried getting him a therapist to help deal with the trauma but the now family of three made the executive decision to move house. Move out of that house that reeks with death. “A new millennium - a new start,” his parents parroted from those stupid self-help books. It was okay the first time but now it’s just annoying. _

_ They moved all the way out to Chicago, leading to Mikey’s current predicament - trying to navigate the halls of the local high school as a naive freshman from New Jersey having joined halfway through the year. _

_ “You all good there man,” a voice from behind him causes him to look up from where he’s struggling with his locker. It’s Pete Wentz. He’s only been here for a day but he already knew enough about Pete to tell he’s bad news. He’s the rambunctious popular kid who goes through girlfriends like Mikey goes through glasses (people like to punch him in the face a lot, okay) - at least from what he’s heard gossiped under student’s breaths. Why the hell is Pete fucking Wentz talking to the socially awkward new kid on his second day of school. _

_ “Piss off,” okay maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say. He prepares to get his shit pushed in but the first punch never comes. He risks a peek to see Pete merely pout. _

_ “Be like that then. Well, I guess I’ll see you in maths,” Pete says before continuing down the hall leaving Mikey staring at his retreating form with only one thought in his head. _

_ “The fuck?” _

* * *

_ Pete sticks around, inviting Mikey to a party at his on his first weekend at the school despite Mikey giving him the cold shoulder all week and turning down all attempts at communication. He is however forced to attend the party by his parents after he lets it slip during dinner one day. They say social interaction will be good for him. Yeah right. He ends up spending an hour at the party cooped up in the bathroom, red solo cup full of a questionable substance in one hand - which he ‘till that point thought only existed in movies - and a novel in the other. He only went to get Pete and his parents off his back. _

_ While his parents seemed satisfied - or at least realised he wasn’t going to budge and stopped trying - it didn’t work with Pete because he invited Mikey to eat with his group the following Monday.  _

_ He never invited Mikey to another party though. Something he was very grateful for. _

* * *

_ It wasn’t until sophomore year that Mikey realised he liked Pete. Like,  _ ** _really _ ** _ liked Pete. He’d been exposed to the concept of homosexuality due to his brother quietly coming out to him behind closed doors, despite the strong religious views of their family, but he never thought he’d follow in his footsteps. _

_ Of course, he’d been interested in Pete since they met, but he’d originally chalked it up to morbid fascination until one day it just clicked. Pete became something of a friend despite Mikey’s half-hearted protests that they weren’t, and to Mikey’s surprise, his initial annoyance at the boy’s antics had evolved into infatuation. _

_ It was an accident the first time they kissed. At least that’s what Mikey likes to tell himself. They’d been sitting in Mikey’s room, home alone, “studying” - meaning just joking and fucking around not getting anything done - and Pete had pushed Mikey’s hair out of his face. The way Pete looked at him, how his soft touch lingered even after he pulled away. Mikey couldn’t help but lean in. Before Mikey could pull away however, Pete had pulled him closer and their history test tomorrow had been long forgotten. _

_ Their relationship sadly had to be kept under wraps and behind closed doors. Two non-heterosexual guys in a homosexual relationship (he knew Pete still liked girls somewhat) in early 2000’s Chicago. They had to stay secret for their safety and survival. It didn’t mean they couldn’t do whatever the hell they wanted when they were alone though if you know what I mean. _

_ It wasn’t until he finished college that he came out to his parents. They take it better than he thought they would, considering their closely held religious beliefs, his mother merely shakes her head saying she expected this while his father sighs and comes back with a bottle of Jack Daniels. Other than that all he gets is reluctant acceptance, them believing he’s old enough to make his own choices. However, they absolutely adore Pete and get over their prejudices almost immediately after meeting Mikey’s short boyfriend. _

* * *

“Thornsbury, huh?” Pete says over dinner. It’s their 17th anniversary - I know a long time to just be dating, but these are still trying times for an ageing partly gay couple - and they’re at the place they went after Pete came out to his parents - and the fallout that ensued. A ring slowly burns a hole in Mikey’s jacket pocket.

“Yeah,” Mikey knows he’s stalling for time, “there’s been a lot of reported mysterious occurrences there in the past few months. At least according to the forums.” 

Pete’s probably the only person in Mikey’s life that’s been on board with his supernatural shit since the very beginning. The others took a while to warm up to the concept but Pete’s been by his side from the start. He always says that he finds Mikey’s rambling cute - before immediately being jokingly smacked on the arm by his boyfriend, while vehemently denying it.

“Forums? Have you been going on the dark web again?”  _ Fuck. _

“...Maybe?” Mikey reluctantly admits, “it’s like the only place to get info that its bullshit. On the ‘normal’ internet all the true shit’s covered up by the government.”

“So you think the government is hiding the supernatural?” Pete amusedly remarks.

“I guess? It sounds pretty crazy now that I think about it. Like those stupid conspiracy theories about how the moon landing was faked.”

“Pfft, you believe in the moon,” Pete laughs and Mikey finds himself joining in the joy before he remembers the ring sitting heavy in his pocket. 

He takes a deep breath.

He stands before he loses his nerve.

“Hey Mikes, what’s up?” Pete is confused, his chair scraping against the polished floorboards as he leans backwards.

“Here it goes…” Mikey mutters. Another deep breath and he’s on one knee before Pete, ring in hand. A collective gasp goes through the restaurant, before it goes silent, like the building itself is holding its breath.

“Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz the Third, will you marry me?”

Pete sits in shocked silence for a few heartwrenching seconds that feel like years, hands over his mouth, before…

“Michael James Way… yes.”

* * *

Frank nervously fidgets on Ray’s doorstep. It’s Saturday and it’s hard to believe that he’s only been in Thornsbury for a week. Less than a week actually.

He’s still standing there awkwardly - gripping his guitar case so tightly that his knuckles are white - when Ray opens the door.

“Hey, Frank! What are you doing just standing there? Come on in!” Ray gestures for him to follow him into a carpeted hallway, “everyone else is already here. We’re setting up in the studio.”

“Studio?”

“It’s just the spare room. I use it to practice and Mom and Dad said we could jam in there when they’re not home,” Ray leads him upstairs, past multiple doors, and into a rather large room near the back of the house.

When they walk in, Bob, Lindsey, and Jamia are already there. Frank’s confused. He thought Gerard would be joining them.

“Where’s Gee?”

Ray gives him a strange look, “Gee isn’t coming.” His words leave Frank more confused than before.

“Frank, did you bring your guitar?” Bob says from where he’s setting up a drum set with Jamia’s help.

“Right here,” he holds up the guitar case when Bob looks up, “you guys got a spare amp? Mine got lost in the move.”

“Yeah sure, check in the closet,” Ray goes back to tuning his own guitar.

“What do you play, Jamia?” Frank asks her when she sits down on the couch in the corner of the room. Bob’s sitting at his drum set, Ray has his guitar, and Lindsey’s plucking at a bass guitar.

“Oh, no, I can’t play for shit,” Jamia echoes Gerard’s words from a few days ago, “I usually just support this lot and sometimes film Lind’s performances.”

“‘Support’? Like moral support?”

“Something like that…” she trails off when Lindsey flops onto the couch flinging her arm around the shorter girl.

“Since we’re all here - bar Gee for obvious reasons…” Lindsey leans into Jamia, “we wanted to tell you guys something.”

Frank finds himself caught on what Lindsey said about Gee but doesn’t get much time to dwell on it before Jamia speaks.

“Y- yeah,” she appears nervous, her voice wobbling slightly, “umm… well me and Lindsey… we uh… we’re together. As in like girlfriends… like dating,” she finishes, ducking her blushing face into Lindsey’s chest.

“Finally!” Bob breaks the silence from behind his drums.

“Shut up Bob,” Ray glares at his blond friend, giving him an annoyed whack on the arm before turning back to the girls, “that’s awesome you two. Now are we gonna jam or not?”

Frank finishes setting up his guitar in time to see Lindsey dragging out a mic and stand from the closet.

“What’s the mic for?” Frank raises his eyebrows.

“I usually sing ‘cause Ray’s too shy but you can try singing if you want?” Lindsey firmly pulled Frank over to the mic.

“Oh, no I don’t really-” Frank is cut off by Ray playing the opening riff to Green Day's Holiday. Frank hesitantly starts singing the first verse, mumbling some of the lyrics. 

“...Hear the sound of the falling rain, coming down like an Armageddon flame. A shame… the ones who died without a name.”

He quickly gains his confidence when the others join in singing the chorus, “I beg to dream and differ from the hollow lies. This is the dawning of the rest of our lives…On holiday!” Frank finishes, shouting the last lyric.

* * *

After a few more covers the group decides to call it a day around mid-afternoon.

“Dude, you’re an awesome singer,” Bob grins from where he’s lounging on the sofa eating a bag of chips - he can’t be bothered disassembling his drum set.

“I’m not,” Frank denies, placing his guitar back in its case with a gentleness that the group had never seen from him before.

“Don’t sell yourself short, man. You’re like the missing piece to this group that we didn’t even know was missing,” Ray smiles at Frank.

Lindsey crouches beside him and quietly places a letter in his hand before standing again, “we need to do another session like this soon guys,” she says, gesturing to the room and acting like nothing happened

“If I don’t get dragged down by homework,” Bob jokes between mouthfuls of chips.

“Maybe if you didn’t slack off and actually handed stuff in on time you wouldn’t fall behind,” Ray comments packing the amps away.

“I’d like that,” Frank is grinning wider than ever before, but his mind keeps straying to the letter clutched between his fingers.

* * *

** _Meet at Thornsbury Graveyard - 3 pm_ **

** _\- G_ **

That’s what’s written in the letter.  _ The graveyard? Why there?  _ Frank guesses he probably shouldn’t judge Gerard, he himself is rather fond of the macabre, if his music taste is any indication.

“Weird choice for a first date huh?” Frank teases when he spots Gerard not quite leaning against a tree on the outskirts of the probably haunted plot of land.

“Shut up,” Gerard almost playfully punches Frank’s arm when the shorter boy gets close enough only for him to dodge the blow entirely, “it just means we won’t be disturbed.”

Frank’s grin widens and he giggles, laying it on thick, “ooh, I’ve never had sex in a graveyard,” he speaks in a singsong manner.

“You’ve probably never had sex, period,” the red-head retorts good-naturedly.

“Jerk,” it’s Frank’s turn to wack Gerard on the arm, or at least try to since Gerard agilely sidesteps his swing. This motion, however, causes Gerard to lose his balance, sending him stumbling to the ground.

Frank starts to laugh but as he’s not looking where he’s stepping he ends up tripping on an exposed tree root and landing on his ass. Despite that it only causes him to start laughing harder.

“We’re such idiots,” Frank watches Gerard pull himself to his feet and dust himself off, “oi Gee!” Frank holds out a hand for the red-head to take only for Gerard to snicker.

“Can’t you get up by yourself?” Gerard looks down to see the smaller boy’s pouting face.

“Jerk.”

“Dick.”

“Why are we in a graveyard?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” Gerard replies when the other boy finally decides to get up before heading into a lot of graves.

“Wait where are you going?”

Gerard kneels before a headstone obscured by moss, making a move to brush the stuff aside only to think better of it and retract his hand, saying instead, “it’s been a long time since I’ve been here.”

“Dude, not that I don’t love all the dark goth shit but I wouldn’t mess with a ghost if I were you,” Frank crosses his arms, a chill going down his spine - whether it’s because of the cold or something more sinister, he doesn’t know.

“Have a look at this,” Gerard calls the dark-haired teen over.

“I think I’m all good over here,” Frank says from his spot at the edge of the graveyard - don’t get him wrong, he isn’t afraid of ghosts but this place is giving him a bad feeling.

“Suit yourself,” Gerard looks disappointed, lowering his gaze to the grass littered with old dead flowers.

“Are you guilt-tripping me?” Frank laughs with a nervous tilt, taking half a step forward on shaking legs.

Gerard, however, doesn’t quip anything back, instead continuing to stare downwards.

“Gee, come on,” nerves infect his voice despite how hard he tries to push them down. Gerard still doesn’t move and Frank, realising that this is something really serious, plucks up the courage to shuffle over to the red-head.

“Okay? I’m here,” Frank remains standing. He can see the headstone in its full glory now - though calling it ‘glorious’ is a misnomer as all it is is an old, dirty, unkempt lump of concrete.

“What’s so special about some overgrown grave?”

Gerard doesn’t respond. He instead starts humming a quiet tune which quickly turns into lyrics.

“Well, you can hide a lot about yourself but honey what’re you gonna do?” Gerard’s voice is intoxicating, causing Frank to forget what he was even mad about.

“Cause we all wanna party when the funeral ends, ba-ba-ba, ba-ba-ba. And we all get together when we bury our friends, ba-ba-ba, ba-ba-ba…”

“Gee…”

“It’s been eight bitter years since I’ve been seeing your face, ba-ba-ba, ba-ba-ba. And you’re walking away, and I will-” Frank cuts him off when he goes to initiate a kiss.

“Frankie no,” Gerard shuffles backwards, going to stand.

“Wait, Gee,” he attempts to grasp the red-heads hand only for it to slip through his grasp.

“I’m sorry Frank, I’ve gotta go,” Gerard turns away and runs off.

“Gerard!” The brunet tries desperately but he’s long gone.

“Gee no,” he digs his fingers into the mildly damp grass, eyes filling with tears. But wait. Those same tear-filled eyes land on the mossy grave. He clears off the moss and…

**Gerard Arthur Way**

**April 9th 1982 - September 15th 1999**

**“Though you’re dead and gone, believe me, your memory will carry on.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote on Gerard's gravestone is a lyric from Welcome To The Black Parade.


End file.
